A24’s ‘Materialists’ Was Labeled a Flop—Here’s Why I Disagree

By now, you’ve probably heard of Materialists, the new romantic comedy from A24 starring Dakota Johnson, Chris Evans, and Pedro Pascal. With a trio this star-studded, fireworks seemed inevitable—especially with a love triangle at its core. Yet, despite the hype, the film landed in cinemas to surprisingly lukewarm reviews. Critics branded it “shallow”, as a story that valued “style over substance”, and even “a rare A24 misfire”. 

But here’s the thing: I don’t agree. At all. Sure, it’s a sly subversion of the usual rom-com, straying from neat happily-ever-afters or swoony clichés. Instead, writer-director Celine Song takes a scalpel to the genre, dissecting the transactional undercurrents of modern love. Between the snappy banter, glossy New York backdrops, and slightly absurd scenarios, I found something surprisingly resonant: a story about desire, ambition, and the messy calculus behind choosing who—and what—we love.

CHARACTERS THAT FALL (AND FAIL) IN LOVE

Johnson anchors the film as Lucy, a cynical matchmaker-for-hire who curates love lives for New York City’s elite while fumbling through her own. Her trademark deadpan delivery, often a point of debate among audiences, works to her advantage here. It lends Lucy a dry wit that makes her moments of vulnerability land with even more impact.

Evans slips easily into the role of John, Lucy’s charming but aimless ex-boyfriend, imbuing him with just enough immaturity to explain both her lingering attraction and her mounting frustration. Pascal, on the other hand, plays Harry, the wealthy bachelor whose rapport with Lucy is slower, steadier, and intentionally less electric. Their connection isn’t built on sparks but on security, a contrast that strengthens the film’s commentary on desire versus stability.

What keeps this triangle fresh is Song’s refusal to stack the decks. Unlike many rom-coms where one suitor is clearly more appealing than the other, both John and Harry are placed on equal footing—that is, if you strip away the material comforts of money. Each man embodies both appeal and flaw, offering Lucy something she craves and something she can’t quite live with. That balance is what makes Materialists feel quietly radical.

And because of that balance, the love story avoids the genre’s usual shortcuts. Watching these characters stumble through mismatched expectations feels refreshingly real. Love here isn’t a grand airport chase or a dramatic dash in the rain—it’s awkward silences, uneasy compromises, and sometimes choosing someone for reasons you’d rather not say out loud.

WHY THE ‘FLOP’ LABEL DOESN’T SIT RIGHT

So, why did critics write it off? Many point to its uneven tone—part screwball comedy, part intimate drama, with flashes of satire that undercut sincerity. It’s almost as if Materialists wasn’t trying to be a comfort-watch rom-com at all, but a mirror to what real relationships are supposed to look like. And sometimes, we don’t like what we see.

Yes, there are scenes that meander, and the pacing occasionally drags. But when the film lands, it really lands. Those very “flaws” critics point to are, I’d argue, what give it texture. After all, love doesn’t unfold in neat arcs or tidy resolutions. Why should a film about one pretend otherwise?

That said, not every risk pays off. The film briefly introduces a sexual assault subplot involving Lucy’s client, Sophie, that could have raised the stakes and grounded its satire in harsher realities. Instead, it’s given too little weight, appearing abruptly before fading without meaningful follow-through. 

As a result, it functions more as a narrative device than a character arc, adding shock value without fully grappling with its implications. The thread ultimately feels disconnected from the story’s emotional core and tonally at odds with the rest of the film, leaving an impression of squandered potential rather than fulfilment.

MORE THAN JUST ‘BROKE MAN PROPAGANDA’

If there’s one thing Materialists makes clear, it’s that relationships are never just about chemistry. It’s also about timing, circumstance, and the compromises we’re willing (or unwilling) to make. You can adore someone yet choose differently; crave stability but miss the thrill of chaos; chase wealth and status only to find them empty without connection.

Much of the online backlash has accused the film of perpetuating “broke man propaganda”, but that reading misses the point entirely. Song has been outspoken about how dismissing John as just a “broke boy” reduces him—and people like him—to their bank accounts. Her story isn’t championing poverty, nor is it vilifying wealth. Instead, it’s probing us to consider how capitalism seeps into our hearts: how we weigh loyalty and devotion against luxury dinners, how we measure compatibility not just in emotions but in assets.

With her clients, Lucy reduces compatibility to tangible assets like wealth, height, looks, and status. By that metric, Harry is the obvious winner: he offers giant rose bouquets, exquisite travels, and most importantly, financial security. Meanwhile, John brings little more than unwavering devotion to the table. Neither option is wrong, but neither is meaningless, and that dilemma is exactly what makes Materialists more incisive than your average rom-com.

FINAL VERDICT

As a rom-com that dares to complicate the very genre it inhabits, it doesn’t just aim for laughs or tears but makes you question how love shifts when privilege is part of the equation. Is devotion without stability enough? Does stability without passion truly count as love? There isn’t a right answer. Whether Lucy chooses comfort or chaos, the film reminds us that love still matters, even when it refuses to fit into a storybook frame.

So, call it a flop if you want. To me, the only thing falling flat here is the outdated expectations of what a rom-com should be. Maybe it isn’t the film that needs fixing, but our idea of love and how we measure it, that deserves a rewrite.

Rating: 8/10

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